Rosebud
by besemperadreamer
Summary: AU7th year; SS/OC D/G. While the Golden trio is on Horcruxes hunt, Ginny creates the Resistance to fight back the Dark Lord's followers inside Hogwarts. Would she receive an help from the most unlikely alleate? Moreover, when the paths of a turncoat Deatheater and a Debtor of the Rosebud Boulevard collide, what will happen? Full summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This Fanfiction starts from Harry's late sixth year, and tells the story of Draco and Snape, as they struggle to break free from Lord Voldemort's slavery. It's canon-compliant with the books with a big change about the secret of Helena Ravenclaw's diadem. The plot is complicated as there are new characters and enemies. The golden trio will arrive around the 40th chapter. In Italian this fanfiction counts 50 chapters, and it's completed. I hope to translate one chapter for week.

**I desperately need a betareader. If someone wants to come in my rescue, PM me.  
**

**Rosebud**

**DISCLAIMERS**: Harry Potter belongs to her writer, J.K. Rowling. This story has been only written for fun and not for profit.

**Iris**

Even the weather seems to fight back against the events that had begun soon after her mother's death. It was a moonless night and the black mantle over their heads appeared to be undressed from its shining crown of stars, showing only an intangible, never-ending darkness. Few street lamps, hovering at the two opposite sidewalks, gave off a dim light which made Knocturn Alley look even more gloomy. Two cloaked figures were rushing along the paved road until the tiniest of the two stopped abruptly, trying to break free from the tight grip the other one had on their arm.

"Please, uncle, I don't want to…." was the plea of a little, scared voice.

"Shut up and keep going, you rascal!" hissed the angry man, jerking and dragging her along the way.

Leaving the main road behind, they followed a row of lanterns emanating a warm, alluring red glow until they arrived in a wide alley where an ancient Victorian house stood. Blasts of wind were whipping the front of the huge mansion, making its window shutters rattle aloud like a warning. The squeaky sign "Rosebud Boulevard" was flipping back and forth, revealing the name of her new prison.

"Please!" she cried, fighting back uselessly. Ignoring the pleas, the man climbed the few stairs ahead and knocked on the front door. After a little while, it was opened by a bulky woman wearing heavy make-up and a combed crimson wig. Her long red-wine dress was showing a wide décolleté which left very little to imagination. When she spotted her visitors, a broad sneer deformed her flabby face, revealing a row of yellowed teeth.

"As agreed upon," declared the man, pushing the child toward her new master.

"No! No!" she screamed, grabbing desperately his sleeve. "I beg you, uncle, don't leave me here, please, please!"

Her hood slipped. Her delicate pale face was framed by long silky black hair twirling in the wind and warm tears were rolling uncontrollably from her grey eyes. Yet, her prayer was swallowed by the howl of the storm. The Matron grabbed her shoulder. Her long, sharp nails sank into her soft skin. She took her wand from her sleeve and crossed it with the man's one. They began to murmur in an ancient language until a glowing thread encircling both their hands was formed. The child threw a high-pitched scream to the impotent sky, trying to break free from the Matron's grasp, under whose hand her skin was burning as if it was being branded. When finally the spell came to a close and the Matron withdrew her hand, the dress on the child's shoulder was torn and its edges were brownish as if they were burnt.

On the one time snow-white skin, there was now engraved a stylized dark rosebud.

_Twenty years later_

Although the sleazy muggle pub was really crowded, it was impossible not to spot her. She was so different from the shady old sailors and the poor, half-naked whores that usually hung out there. While sitting at the bar, she was sipping her cocktail surrounded by an air of boredom. Her free hand, with a huge carved sapphire on her middle finger, was caressing her chest seductively. She wore a black, long embroidered gown which made her busty, slender figure stand out. Nevertheless, although her blooming body and her full, fire-red lips expressed a passionate nature, her grey eyes could be compared to ice islands.

She didn't have to wait long. The waiter brought her a glass full of low-quality champagne, offered by the old man sitting in the right corner of the pub. She took the goblet and rise it up a little, nodding as a sign of appreciation. Soon after, he approached. His foul odor of sweat and cheap cologne was disgusting. He was almost bald and what remained of his hair had lost completely its original color. His face, covered by freckles, was extremely furrowed. His small, piggy eyes were looking her up and down eagerly.

"You're a beauty." he said, with a slimy smile on his face.

"Thank you," she answered as she leaned forward to show more of her chest, while touching lightly the edge of his glass with the same middle finger which wore her precious ring.

"Want to drink some more with me, tonight? I've rent a room in a hotel near here." he asked, more confident.

"My pleasure, My lord. Let's cheer one more time before going," she said, smiling amiably.

The glasses touched ever so slightly with a sharp sound, while the two lovers-to-be were looking at each other sensually. He swallowed thirstily to speed up the time, the woman just moistened her lips.

He had just the time to put the glass down, before crushing on the bar in a deep sleep.

"What an idiot," she muttered with contempt, shifting her fake amiable smile in an icy expression. Without anyone noticing, she rob him from all of his money and took her leave, giving the pub her back. Through the transparent veil of her black dress, on her left shoulder a rosebud-shaped burn could be seen clearly.

As soon as she came out from the filthy muggle drinking hole, a chilly gust of wind blew her hair over her face and she hurried to avoid a storm while she was still far away from the Rosebud Boulevard. Knotturn Alley was not distant from the place she had chosen to worm money out of some unwary muggle, but she wouldn't make in time if she had walked. On the main road she raised her hand to draw the attention of the omnibus driver. Many wizards wouldn't even dream to use public muggle transports, but she wasn't a ordinary witch and had learnt many years ago to get by on her own since the use of a wand for her was forbidden. The bus left her in front of a ramshackle hotel, a cover for the portal that allowed directed access to Knotturn Alley, which was the nearest place to her prison since she was twelve years old.

With an habitual gesture she caressed her ring, making sure that it was closed so that the soporific powder in the secret case underneath didn't get lost. The flowers she bought to produce it were very expensive and the desiccation process had wasted a lot of her time, and she didn't want to lost a single speck. It was a perfect trick for men. They were so stupid…All she had to do was showing a little more of her breast and she could have put an elephant inside their glasses.

"Where the hell were you, Iris?" said Margaret tense, welcoming her from the main door. "There is a new girl and Madame Rose wants you to be her tutor. She wasn't so pleased when she found out that you weren't in."

"I was working, the old hag cannot complain" answered dryly, while they surpassed the Orchids Room. At the end of the corridor, they turned for their Matron's headquarters and, after waiting for her invite to enter, they crossed the threshold. The room had ruby velvet walls, while the floor was covered by a soft, reddish fitted carpet. All inside the small room showed useless overabundance. There were trinkets of any kind, painted ceramics, ointments and products for the care of the body, brushes of several dimensions and countless pictures of their Matron when she was still a young and appealing ballerina. Iris was positive that the reason why there were no mirror on the walls of the Boulevard was her pathetic attachment to her glorious days. More so, since she liked to spend hours in front of the only bewitched mirror inside her room which showed her always young and gorgeous. No matter how much Iris hated her, she couldn't deny the beauty of her younger reflection. It was hard thinking that the stunning, solar girl in the mirror and the spiteful, horrid old hag were the same person, but she could understand why a lot of men had fallen head over heels for her. How she fell from grace and why she decided to open the Rosebud Boulevard was still a mystery. According to the rumors, she was an abandoned lover or else she had lost everything at gamble. Every one possible, nothing proved.

A heavy spicy smell of incense and the fragrance of Revitalizing Creams welcomed them. As usual, they found their Matron sitting behind her large dark mahogany desk counting the money of her last deal. The jewel box of Dragonia bones was open and was full of precious rings and necklaces as always. Its top would bite anyone who tried to steal something. It was rumored that years ago a girl lost her finger trying to get her family jewels back. Nobody had tried again the experience to prove the truth.

"Finally." croaked her Matron and the lid of the jewel box suddenly shut, to open on its own soon after with a dry snap, like two lips expressing their disapproval.

"I was outside paying the price of my Debt." Iris answered grimly, throwing on the desk the sack full of the muggle money she had stolen earlier. Madame Roses grabbed it greedily, took some coins and weighted them in her hand.

"Well, it's the least you can do, if you want to be free someday." she stressed these last words with a malicious smile. "Anyway," she said then "I have a job for you. She's all yours, until the day of the New Bloom."

For the first time since she had arrived, Iris noticed a bundle thrown on the floor, leaning besides the desk. Only, it was not a bag. She was a skinny child of flesh and blood, and was trembling like a leaf.

"Can't you saddle somebody else with her?" she asked, grimacing.

"It is all yours." the matron repeated, showing the most satisfied of her smirks. Iris was sure that she felt a sadistic pleasure in making her life hell.

Instead of losing time to complain uselessly, she snorted and gestured the child to follow. The little girl complied immediately, stumbling on her feet to put more distance between the matron and herself. They walked along the corridor that cross the entire palace, until they arrived in front of the stairs. The child was watching her surrounding extremely disoriented, divided between fear and astonishment for that unknown place.

"Exactly like me, when they left me to rot here" she found herself thinking with loathe.

Rosebud Boulevard consisted of approximately fifty rooms, distributed irregularly on four plans. Downstairs, there were four wide halls, furnished with couches and seats covered in silky velvet, whose floral decoration differ from room to room. Each of them offered a certain kind of entertainment, from gambling to every forbidden drink, but only the Rose Hall had an impressive black and shiny piano, bewitched to play the most famous symphonies for only important customers.

The Tulip Hall was the only one closed for their clients and was used only for reunions. It was unusual for the girls to meet there on their own accord since the room was right beside Madame's quarters and was the only one with a fireplace connected with Floo Network, which was obviously forbidden to use.

Iris and the child went beyond the first floor, which was destined to potions making upon request. Generally, the ordered filters were illegal and dangerous; the basis ingredient was the powder of venomous plants: among the girls there was who, like Azalea, was in charge to get them and who, instead, took care of the purify process.

Once they reached the last floor where the girls' room were, Iris pushed the child inside the chamber she shared with Margaret. The room was empty, and Iris cursed under her breath. She had hoped her friend was there to help her with the new trouble. She wasn't good at dealing with children and neither with reassuring explanations, and that situation demanded them both.

"Do you know why you are here?" she asked abruptly, pulling roughly out that kind of gunny she had for dress. Only then she took her time to watch her more carefully. She was shaking like a little mouse in a cage, her face was a little dirty with mud and she had some red scratch on her hands and her still-not-blossomed chest. She couldn't have more than eight-nine years.

She waited some time for an answer but then, when it didn't arrive, she gave up and filled the bathtub every room had as furniture with lukewarm water. Then, she ordered the girl to step in. Iris rubbed her face, her back, the chest, her legs. She tried to remove with the sponge four black spots arranged in a arc that she believed were ink dot on the left ankle, just to realize they were only beauty marks. Then she proceeded to was her long, black hair.

The child endured those treatments without moving, still crying silent tears. When Iris finished, threw over her a towel large enough to be used as bathrobe and fumbled inside her closet in order to find something to give her. Then, she tossed a cast-off gown approximately of her size on the bed. The child silently dressed, while still crying.

"For Merlin's sake, do you want to stop crying?" snapped Iris, losing her patience.

The girl only looked more miserable.

"Do you know why you are here?" she asked, trying to tone down her temper. "Do you know what is this place?"

She received a sign of denial with her head as reply. Well, better than nothing, Iris thought.

"This is the dump of the Magical World", Iris laughed bitterly, without sugarcoating the truth. "You and I, and all the girls who live here, are just garbage for our society…"

The child began to sob uncontrollably. In that moment Margaret and Angelica entered the room. They watched alternatively Iris and the sobbing child with arms crossed, and shook their heads with resignation.

"Iris, how can you be so tactless? She is only a child." said Angelica, one of the older girls of the entire Boulevard. Iris envied and, at the same time, despised the placid calm with which Angelica accepted their condition. If it was due to her surrender or her gentle nature, she preferred not to know since she didn't want to believe that one day she would have given up fighting for her freedom. Margaret kept shaking her head, looking Iris surly.

"Does it matter how I explain it? The nitty-gritty won't change." Iris spat.

"She is only a child." Angelica explained, holding tight the child now quieter to her chest.

"All of us were, and we stopped soon to be. Which difference does it make? She is damned, whenever you'll tell them or not."

"What Iris wanted to say" explained Angelica, trying to calm down the worried look of the child at the word "damned" "Is that now you are going to live here until the debt that your family has stipulated with Madam Rose will be settled. There are many things that can do to earn money: cleaning up the rooms, serving dishes, playing, dancing, entertaining customers, or doing odd jobs outside. You'll choose what will work for you, don't be scared."

"I just want to go home." the child sobbed.

"Then, you haven't understood anything," scoffed Iris, "Your family got rid of you, for they you are just a weight to threw over."

"Iris, cut that out for Merlin's sake." Margaret snarled.

"Do you remember why you were left here?" asked Angelica, sweetly.

"They were saying I was cursed! My mother was always crying and… the animals… and my father was always angry… They said I'm a Squib," she started to cry again "But they love me, they will return to take me home, right? Right?"

Margaret and Angelica exchanged a bitter look of understanding. Iris was showing an expression of pure bitter satisfaction. Then, Angelica urged Margaret to lead the child in the kitchen to make her have a good meal, because she didn't want her witnessing the conversation that was going to take place there.

"It's clear that they won't return ever again to take her home" Iris spat triumphantly, keeping staring outside the window that was overlooking the front of the Boulevard. Angelica sighed, a sigh full of anguish and pain.

"She seems you, when you arrived here, scared and confused." she whispered.

"Of that child, there is nothing left Angie. And more you try to sugarcoat the truth, more you lessen what's in store for her, worse will be for her. She's a Squib, she won't be able to earn money concocting potions or working in the magical world."

"She will hatch out a plan to avoid prostitution when she'll be older enough to considerate the possibility. You know Madame Roses doesn't care what you do as long as her pockets are filled and you don't create troubles."

Iris lost in thought didn't answer, caressing the ring to her finger as to verify that it was in its place.

"She has you, you are her Caretaker." Angelica said.

"I'm not cut out to be one, Angie. I made her cry nonstop. I'm not good with children."

"You don't have to be. To be a true Caretaker means to be present in the time of need, to give life lessons. To teach the new ones how getting by in this place, helping them surviving in this sad world. It means to make treasure of the advices you had collected and passing them to the new girls so they can put them in good use." Angelica explained animatedly, with the sweet smile she used to show her when she was only twelve years and was abandoned like a broken toy in a dump of repudiated daughters.

"Luckily, a year passes in a hurry." Iris commented, ignoring the lecture of her friend.

* * *

**A/N**: Hi guys! I know the first chapter can be a bit confusing, but the best is yet to come :) The story is complete and published in Italian, I'm just starting to translate it in English. I did try to find someone who would do the translation, but at the end I understood I have to do the dirty job all by myself!R&R

_semper_


	2. Marked

**Marked**

**A/N:** sorry for mistakes here and there. English is not my native language. R&R.

It had been hard getting used to the child's presence during the following days because Iris didn't usually work inside the Boulevard. However, as her Caretaker, she had no choice at least until the day of the New Bloom. Besides, few days after the child's arrival, Iris had another reason that forced her to stay at the Boulevard; they had an unusual invasion of cats, which succeeded in entering the mansion from every available hole. All the girls were called to chase them away, getting a lot of scratches and fleas in return, until Madame at last casted a spell to keep them away.

Although Iris felt like she wasn't suited for the task, she tried her best to be what her late Caretaker once had been for her: a guide, a mentor, a safe haven. But she was really bad at dealing with children and she was so very sorry for the creature who was entrusted to her. She wasn't kind. She was hard, hard-shelled and couldn't put up with tears and tantrums. This is what she had become and what she could offer. For her part, the child had initially tried to hide behind Margaret and Angelica's skirts, but she couldn't disobey their Matron's order without sustaining painful consequences and thus she had to give up looking for comfort and was forced to follow unwillingly Iris.

The Debtor entrusted her with some simple works, like cleaning the rooms of all the girls living inside the Boulevard, washing dishes in the kitchen, sweeping the floor early in the morning. She scolded her if she was too slow in carrying out the job, she shacked her head with resignation when she got what she explained wrong. As a consequence, the child usually burst into tears, which only exasperate more the woman who always remembered her:

"Crying won't solve anything! If you earn enough money, you'll be able to buy your freedom, and then you will be able to do whatever you want! So, stop whining and get back to work!"

The months passed and the previously easy tasks were extended to more rooms, more turns in the kitchen, more floors. They were tiring since the child couldn't use magic and Iris knew it too well. But if she hadn't become useful in some way, Iris didn't want to think what Madame could arrange for her. She was too young to manage gambling or serving drinks, she couldn't brew potions and no wizard family would have taken her as domestic servant if they could afford an elf.

Their relationship was far from the maternal one she had with her late Caretaker. It was more of a pact of forced mutual acceptance that was convenient to them both. Furthermore, more she pitied the child, more she became rigid and bitter. Like in a vicious circle, it was clear how much the child despised her, wondering why she got a so cruel Caretaker.

It was during an evening like many others that their relationship undergo an unexpected change. All the women of the Boulevard were reunited at dinner in the kitchen downstairs to consume their supper made of Rollerflower vegetables, which according to Madame would have smoothed their skin, and which according to the girls tasted like garbage. There was the usual idle chatter along the table to which Iris generally didn't take part, exchanging every now and then some words with Angelica or Azalea. Her "pain in the ass", as she used to call the child with which she had got landed with months before, was serving fuming plates of soup to everybody. She was distracted answering to Angelica in that moment, therefore not noticing the nature of the turmoil that had been burst at the end of the table.

She stood up only to see her "pain" shaken by the arm from Peony, whose hair was completely soaked with soup.

"What have you done, you dirty Squib! You'll pay for your carelessness! My poor hair!" the Debtor snarled, raising a hand to slap the child's face. The little girl put her free hand in front of her to shelter herself from the hit, which never arrived.

Iris had the tip of her paralyzing poisonous dagger on the throat of the woman.

"Let her go Peony, now."

Laughs and chatters were replaced by a heavy atmosphere, full of tension; Iris was famous for not being understanding. Peony scorned at her then pushed the child away, who immediately hid behind her savior.

"Keep your trash away from me." she spat, while a rivulet of brownish soup dripped down her cheek.

Iris scowled, pressing more the tip on the woman's neck.

"No fights, girls." Madame Rose admonished just in time, entering the kitchen and sitting at the head of the table. The two women stared angrily at each other before Iris withdrew the dagger and went sitting on her place followed by the child. That she was looking at her with admiration, respect, and in some way gratitude for the first time gave a gentle squeeze to her stomach. Perhaps for the first time she behaved as a real Caretaker.

The day of the New Bloom fell, like always, exactly a year after the arrival, and it was the day in which the child would have been finally Named. Any kid, adolescent, young-adult woman who had stipulated a Debt with Madame Rose would lose automatically their given name. Iris had tried to explain in which way the magic of the contract cancel the identity of the human being, robbing him of the freedom and binding him to the laws of their Matron. Iris tried to explain that the rosebud tattoo every one of them showed on their shoulder represented an unbreakable union, the symbol of their damnation. She tried to clarify how the bud blossomed slowly as the end of the debit was near, but she wasn't sure to have succeeded.

"Wouldn't be better if it disappeared instead of blossoming completely, when the debit is settled?" the child asked the same morning, while Iris was brushing her hair and fixing her dress for the ceremony.

"It is a sly way of the contract to dig up that you have been under its control once. It will be branded in your skin forever and anyone who will see the rose on your shoulder will know what you have been. For this reason many girls who have settled the debit keep working here. They don't believe that outside there is someone willing to accept them, knowing they have lived at the Boulevard. This place is the den of what the Magical World doesn't want, doesn't approve, pretend it doesn't exist."

"Like Squibs," said hesitantly the child.

"Yes, too. " Iris answered sincerely.

"Do you remember your true name, Iris?" the child asked all of sudden.

Iris seemed lost in memories for a long moment.

"I have only vague memories of my childhood and my family because of the contract. So long went by since I was called by my real name. In any case, when I will be finally free I will remember and the I'll know against who I have to take my revenge. Now let's go, they are waiting for us."

When Iris and the child arrived in the Tulip Hall, all the girls of the Boulevard were already standing barefoot in circle with the palms of their hands turned up. In the center, there was a complex symbol of flowers emanating a warm glow. Roots were hanging down from the ceiling joining the ground now covered by a thin layer of soft grass, creating vine-covered thin columns all around. The entire room seemed to be transformed in a blooming glade. Their matron was inside the circle and was wore the ceremonial dress of Mistress, a long gown with wide sleeves embroidered with all the existing flowers, some of them still buds, others hardly blossomed and just few completely opened.

The girls began to murmur their own names in a hypnotizing chant, while Iris lead the child inside the circle in front of their Matron, who had her arms raised towards the ceiling. The symbol on the floor sprung into cold red flames under their feet,.

"I demand, You Caretaker," Madame Roses cried, while the girls' chant was toned down until becoming just a background murmur "Why this child is in my presence."

"I beg you, My Lady, to grant her a Name." said Iris by heart, shivering inside when she said those hated ritual words.

Madame lowered her hands and from one of the long sleeves pulled out her wand, a branch of a Devil Rose with thorns on its tip, and placed it over the rosebud tattoo on the child's shoulder.

"I ask You Caretaker," she asked again, "Why this child is in my presence."

"I beg you, My Lady, to grant her a Name" Iris repeated, bowing her head. The voices of their companions grew louder and clearer "Daphne, Margaret, Angelica, Azalea, Peony, Erica, Abelia…"

"And so be it." Madame shouted, while her wand was sparkling. A rose-colored thread left from its tip and went backward into the matron's dress, adding a little yellow flower bud in the high part of the skirt.

"From now on, till the end of the debt you will be Cassia. This is what I have chosen as your name."

"I offer my humble thanks, My Lady. I'm yours, only yours, forever yours." Cassia recited to heart, putting herself on hands and knees.

She bowed until her forehead touched the humid grass, exactly over the magical symbol. The red flames crackled one more time before bursting in a cloud of green smoke that wrapped around Cassia for some moments before dissolving completely.

"Raise Cassia," Madame Rose ordered, "And join your sisters."

The rest of the ceremony consisted in being introduced by her caretaker to every single girl of the Boulevard. Cassia was certain that Iris wouldn't have bore the ritual, but to her great surprise she stood on her side all the time.

"I introduce you Cassia, my pupil," she said and the answer was always the same.

"Welcome Cassia, my sister. May you serve our Mistress with devotion and fulfill loyally your contract."

The ceremony ended late in the evening and when Iris and Cassia arrived in front of their room, the moon was already high in the blue sky. Cassia was pleased for having finally a name and was smiling, repeating excited those six letters.

"Is it a beautiful name, right? I wonder what does it means." She squeaked, keeping a broad grin on her face.

"Don't be so glad, Cassia. It is just other stigma the debit forces on you." Iris murmured bitterly. "Now go to bed. Tomorrow will be a hard day; you are going to clean up the cauldrons of the first floor."

"Aye-aye, my Caretaker." smiled the child, hurrying inside.

Iris wouldn't have said to her that in the language of flowers her new name meant "Purity".

* * *

Severus sighed heavily, plunging his head into the pillows of the worn out armchair of his living room at Spinner' s End. Those splitting headache caused by stress had always pestered him since adolescence. First Dumbledore with his suicide mania, then Narcissa with the Unbreakable Vow, and as if it weren't enough, he couldn't slice the throat of that ominous rat with which was forced to live.

He put a hand on his the face pressing the palm on the forehead, but knowing all too well that it won't be so easy to get rid of his migraine. So he decided that a change of air would do. He suddenly stood up and headed for a walk in the neighborhood, maybe to even go drinking somewhere. He took his black leather jacket and closed the door behind, wandering by himself in the lonely streets.

It was strange how the perception of things changes when one become an adult, he thought. When he was a child, the small decrepit neighborhood seemed infinite as if all the world was penned between Little Whinging and Spinner' s End. He surpassed old Phil's house, with that broken-down fencing that was still miraculously upright. As a child, when his father returned dead-drunk at home, he used to run away from the window and reached out for the fencing, scrambling up in order to arrive to one of the lower branches of the tree in the nearby garden. There he felt safe, from the strays that tried to bite his slim legs, and from his father who, from time to time, searched the road to end the job he had begun inside their house.

If only his mother had used her wand… but the magic was banished from house since he could remember. He continued to walk for others five minutes in the main road, before turning in a less spacious street from which he could see the high abandoned chimney standing out against the cloudy sky in the humid summer.

Finally the secondary street ended up in a wider one, not so far from the park where he and Lily used to play. A painful stab inside his head made him understand that a stroll down memory lane was unlikely to ease his discomfort. Instead, a fair glass of old whiskey would have done good. He Apparated just a moment after in a suburb of London near the port, while the sun was nearly beyond the horizon, replaced by the violet-reddish glow of the twilight. He headed towards one of nearest pubs and was not surprised to find it almost empty at that hour. There were only few drunks and a pair of clandestine couples.

His presence didn't arouse suspicions since he seemed all in all a muggle. He wore dark blue jeans, a black turtleneck and his usual black leather jacket that his uncle had given him for his fifteenth birthday. Then it didn't fit properly because was too large, now instead was his size even though its sleeves were slightly short. His black and greasy hair, divided by an old fashioned line, fell back to the sides of his sharp face. He hadn't shaved for days and the sleepless nights he spent due to his hell of migraine didn't contribute to make his appearance more pleasant.

Sitting at the table he ordered a shot of whiskey, then another one and since he was already at two, he decided the third one was a must. When he ordered the forth in a row, he was startled to see it being brought by a gorgeous woman instead of the usual lousy waiter. She should be in her thirties, gray eyes and long black hair that framed a face with full red lips. Her dress fell perfectly back on her figure, modeling at best her curvy forms and showing her breast more than it was allowed by common decency.

"Don't you feel sad, drinking all alone? Can I keep you company?" she asked with sensual voice and, without waiting for an answer, she slipped in the chair beside him.

Severus frowned at her proposal, still making the comparison between himself and the stunning woman who came at his table. Never had it happened to being approached in such a way and he couldn't stop asking himself where the scam was.

"Were you waiting for someone?" the woman asked, noticing his silence.

"Nobody." he answered dryly.

"Then, let's drink together," she smirked, passing a finger on the edge of his shot. She had to be rich, if she could afford such a luxurious ring, he thought.

"Cheers" she said, raising her own glass. Suspiciously, Severus raised the glass to his lips, but years as Potion Master had trained him very well to recognize even the most fleeting of the smells. And that one was not only bad quality whiskey. He sneered, before putting down the glass without having taken even a single drop.

"Better saving your Soporific Potions powder for someone who's dense enough to fall for your poor excuse of a trick."

The woman, taken clearly aback, lost her fake cordial expression.

"Poor excuse?" she asked indignantly. "So as you know, in twenty years nobody found out about my "poor excuse" of a trick, as you've called it."

"Therefore, I suppose you confused me with a simple muggle. It's difficult for me to believe that a wizard can really fall in a so pathetic and badly orchestrated trap. The smell of the Yellow Hornpoppy is perceptible at meters of distance."

The woman's face reddened with repressed anger.

"I have used the most advanced means to refine the potion and long and laborious, let alone expensive, methods to obtain the powder lacking its smell."

"Too bad that the result is mediocre, despite of all your considerable efforts."

"From above your knowledge, you surely would know an alternative then."

"I suggest to replace the essence of Yellow Hornpoppy, with the Somniferum Poppy one, odorless and additionally more powerful."

The woman seemed lost in thought for some second, then she raised her hand and called the waiter.

"Bring us other two shots of whiskey, the best you have, and throws away this stuff." she ordered pointing out at their still full glasses.

"I'm offering you a drink," she explained to Severus's puzzled look.

Iris had never met someone who was able to see beyond her trick, she was intrigued. From the corner of her eye, she studied his hard features and his sullen expression. From his face she could say that he was around her age, even if his sloppy appearance made him look older.

"It's not necessary. It would suffice not to be object of treacherous traps again." he said ironically, leaning on the table with his elbows.

"Oh, you can be sure you won't. I don't make the same mistake of judgment twice."

The waiter arrived carrying two shot of good whiskey, he served them and then went away. Soon after, a loud thud was heard and Severus saw the waiter's feet sticking out from the end of the counter. He must have drunk the remaining of theirs precedent shots.

He snorted sarcastically.

"It was very strong." commented.

"I told him to throw them away." she said, shaking her head annoyed.

"May I have the pleasure to know the name of my potential poisoner?" he asked, sipping the whiskey while leaning on the back of the chair with an indolent expression.

"Iris" she answered, smirking over the edge of her glass. "And you are…"

"Tobias," he answered immediately.

"I believe it's not your real name," Iris said, putting her chin on her hands.

"I believe neither is yours," he replied, sneering bitterly.

"No, you are right," she complied. "So, Tobias-You seems to know your stuff about potions… are you a Potion Master?"

"One could said I am, although it's not a free profession," he answered thoughtfully. "You seem to know your-fact, too, by the way."

"Just moderately. Mine too is not exactly a free profession."

"I see." he sighed, and seemed as he really understood what was like having a loathed master.

While drinking in silence, Iris glanced at the man. He was a knot of arrogance, irony, sarcasm, and in some way, bitterness. Oh, if she was intrigued. She had forgotten the last time she indulged in a night with a man she had chosen for her pure entertainment and, even if at first she didn't have the intention, she wouldn't dislike spending an hour or two with the saturnine man.

Severus, on the other hand, that evening would really have liked to forgot everything, his tasks, his role as a spy, his promises, the Unbreakable Vow… and this woman, Iris, or whatever she was really called, was so attractive, so Slytherin, so interesting…

"Then, if I cannot offer another drink," she murmured, approaching maliciously, "Can I offer any of my company tonight?"

"It depends," he answered on her lips. "Will I stay awake to being able to remember it?"

She grinned deviously, touching his lips with the tip of her tongue playfully. "Believe me, you wouldn't sleep, even if I put all of my powder in your glass."

* * *

Severus was leaning on the worm-eaten headboard of the bed, a relaxed expression on his face. The wrinkled sheet had slipped just down his sharp hipbones, showing the dark line of hair departing from his navel to his pelvis. An arm was reclined behind his head to replace the lack of a soft support, and the other one was resting on his folded leg and finished with a lighten up cigarette.

Iris came out from the bath, wandering around the room without showing the least of shyness in her complete nudity. She slipped on his side, stealing the cigarette from his fingers, and blowing the smoke on his face. She was showing a impudent expression, the angles of her mouth raised in a malicious smile. She put the filter on his lips and waited until he took a puff before stretching and continuing to smoke by herself, laying comfortably close to him.

She had been pleasantly surprised. In reality, she didn't expect him being a great lover since his looks made one assume that he hadn't had a row of women in front of his door. Nevertheless, he succeeded to compensate his lack of experience with the dedication. It was rare to find a man that love giving pleasure to a woman more than seeking his own.

She bent slightly to kiss his neck, sucking a little.

"No signs," he admonished, raising his chin to leave her doing her job. On the rebound, she sucked more stronger his Adam's apple, and smirked when a low moan escaped his lips. Then she went up kissing him passionately, insinuating the tongue within its mouth, mixing her own taste with his and with the bitter aroma of the cigarette.

When she moved slightly back from his face, she noticed on the forearm where he was resting his head something that had previously escaped her attention. Her hand reached out to caress the Black Mark, whose skull stared at her with empty eyes. Her touch remained light and she didn't say nothing, because there was nothing to say. She had found a man that, like her, was branded for good. They shared a future without dreams, a never-ending slavery. The difference was laying in the choice: he had chosen to be a slave - had he?- while she had been forced.

She raised slowly from the bed, resuming from the cold floor her clothes and wore them with indolence. It was then that Severus become aware of the rosebud tattoo on her shoulder, and understood that she was one of the women of the Rosebud Boulevard.

"How much do I own to you?" he asked, without losing sight of every single gesture of her. Iris laughed bitterly, approaching to kiss him one last time.

"Tonight I was just a woman." she said and Severus was left alone staring at door closed behind her. He took a puff of smoke from the cigarette they had shared, on which the shadow of her lipstick could still be seen, savoring the fleeting trace of her aroma.


	3. Felicity's shop

**Felicity's shop **

In the magical world, oddity was the normality. For example, you could found yourself helping someone holding up their own nose which was growing while talking, for they had been under an anti-gossip spell. Or maybe, you could see a quiet woman's hair turning from a dark blond to a more eccentric blue electric in few seconds. And so on. Changes in appearance, in general temporary, were not thought as terribly bizarre.

However, what affected Cassia was very different. As years went by, she hadn't grown an inch in spite of being already in her teen years. It seemed as if her body had frozen when she had her 12th birthday. Madame loved to stress that she had been the worst bargain of her life and the other girls avoided her as if she had the dragon's plague.

And so, Iris's worries increased from day to day; she truly feared that Madame would get rid of the girl if her earning perspectives didn't improve. And so, certain that Cassia's condition was unlikely to get better, as her caretaker Iris was racking her brain to find a job she could do, bearing in mind that she was a Squib. She decided to discuss the matter with the wise Angelica, and went to Azalea's room where she was positive to find her. When she crossed the threshold, she wasn't surprised to find Azalea lying face down on her bed with her back that was bleeding profusely from angry burns. Angelica was by her side, focused in treating her wounds while muttering how stupid her attempts of running away were. The magic of the contract didn't tolerate misbehavior, let alone obvious tries of backing out of the debit. Their tattoo started to burn without a rest, expanding to all of one's back. A rush of magical energy poured inside their legs, so that they stopped to obey to their will and you always found yourself heading for the Boulevard even if your greatest desire was to run in the opposite direction.

She had experienced the same pain and the same unpleasant feeling of lack of control of her own limbs, and because of that she truly respected Azalea. Since she had been sold, not a day had passed without her trying to oppose the contract. She had not succeeded, right, but her perseverance was admirable. And they shared the desperate desire for freedom, their lifetime dream, the only thing that had a meaning in their poor existences. If Iris didn't count Cassia, obviously; in those four years she hated to admit that she had grown fond of the child, more than she was inclined to acknowledge and more than she was usually showing.

"Easy does it, damnit!" Azalea burst out, grinding her teeth for the pain. On her hand, Angelica snorted and rubbed her wounds more vigorously.

"I wouldn't be forced to take care of you, if you weren't so reckless."

"Angelica, can I talk to you for just a moment?" Iris said, interrupting their quarrel. Those two sometimes gave her the impression to be an old bickering couple. Nevertheless, Iris thought that their personality complete one another: Angelica was the only who managed to hold back Azalea's temper, and Azalea was the only one who can shook Angelica's composed attitude. After having exposed Cassia's problem and reasoned in vain on all the possible duties she could do without magic, Iris returned to her room in an extremely bad mood. She wore her dark, revealing "work dress" and after checking that her ring was full of soporific powder, she left the Boulevard to hunt easy preys.

Cassia heard the door opening and, in the darkness of the room, she noticed the cloaked figure of Iris who had just returned from work. It was almost the dawn. She raised her head to greet her Caretaker.

"Go back to sleep, kid. And mind your own business." Iris growled.

Casia shut her mouth and put again her head on the pillow, listening to the comforting noise of Iris taking out her dress, the rustling of the sheet and the soft thud of her body laying down on the mattress.

She waited until her breath became regular, a sign that her Caretaker had finally fell deeply asleep, and collected furtively her things to sneak out of their room. As usual, as soon as she stepped out, a group of little mice amassed to her feet. She heard them squeaking "What a good smell you have!" and "We're so hungry!". Cassia took out a biscuit she had stored in her pocket for the occasion, then crumbled it on the floor to feed the animals. After that, she hurried to the bathroom to clean herself and wear the only dress in her possession, a black gown whose hems were embroidered with floral fantasies. Extremely careful so as not to wake up someone, Madame Rose no less, she went downstairs in utmost silence. Finally, when she was confident that the halls were all clear she scurried along the corridor and went outside from the main door. It was the first time for Cassia to leave the Boulevard by her own since her parents had sold her out. She couldn't dismiss the fear of being all alone in a new environment, but her resolution didn't waver. It appeared as if Iris didn't care about her since she had never used tender words, neither she had ever hugged her, but Cassia knew all too well how much Iris was working for them both. And in the place where everyone thought about their best interest, she regarded it as a real gesture of love.

For this reason she was under the cloudy sky of London, walking through the desert streets of Knotturn Alley, which so early in the morning appeared if possible filthier and gloomier. The rolling shutters of the shops were still closed and the paved road felt slippery for the rain of the previous night. She turned a corner and was grateful for the strategic position of the Rosebud Boulevard, very close to Knotturn Alley and just a few minutes from an exit to the muggle London, in the form of a cheap hotel. It was a wrecked, decaying thirty-old manor. Its walls were scribbled and damaged, and the sidewalk that leaded to its entrance was dirtied with mud, sludge coming from an open sewer and rotting dung. In the distance, Cassia heard men fighting and threaten each other with death.

In that moment, Cassia had a feeling that someone was staring at her and felt a itch on her ankle, just where her four beauty marks formed an arc. She scratched them absent-mindedly, wary of her surroundings. When she found nothing, she dismissed angrily the disturbing sensation. Taking a deep breath, she entered inside the hotel through its revolving door. It would be totally empty, if not for a bald man with watery eyes sitting behind the reception desk. Ignoring him, Cassia covered quickly the distance to the second door and finally arrived in the muggle London.

She wondered how they prevented muggles from entering the hotel. She supposed that there was some kind of spell solving the problem, though perhaps was only its appearance which scared potential customers away. The front wall on muggle London was even more ramshackle, with a shaky scaffolding that covered just one half. Fallen flakes of plasters and dust had made the sidewalk below look off-white.

Casia crossed the empty road and browsed accurately the place. On the face of it, it had to be a suburb and furthermore a rather degraded one, looking at the popular houses, the squeaky stores' signs and all the trash bags piled up in the corners. Not far away from her, there was also a drunken man who was pissing on a wall.

Casia sat on the walkway after having found a small clean space by the news-stand and glanced at the women who were dragging their unwilling children to school, at the still sleepy persons buying the current newspaper, housewives busied with grocery bags running from one side to another. In a little while, the road changed from totally quiet and desert to chaotic and crowded. The neighborhood, the theater of the collectivity's daily life, had been finally awakened.

While Cassia was peeking at the road, she found herself surrounded by a dozen of cats that were purring cheerfully. They were talking about how their hunting of the day had gone, how much the fishes of restaurant bin were tasty, how much her presence was pleasant and how much her smell was alluring. Since she was a little child, situations of the same kind were on every day agenda. She had carefully held the truth from the girls of the Boulevard, even from her Caretaker, because she still remembered people saying she was born cursed. It was the additional reason of her abandon.

"Shoo, shoo" the newspaper seller screamed as he didn't want any stray cat near his workplace. The cats dispersed rapidly and Cassia had to suppress a grin, hearing about their revenge plan to sharpen their claws on his reviews.

Once again, Cassia felt the unsettling feeling of being observed, but as the previous time, she didn't see anybody around. When she thought that the ways were sufficiently crowded and the stores totally opened, she stood up and mustered up the courage to find a job. There were a barber, a cheap supermarket, the newspaper stand and some other little stores along the main road and Cassia was determined to find an employment before Iris noticed her absence. She was accustomed in dealing with muggles because more than once Iris had brought her in London in order to teach her to survive in the muggle world, the more since she was a Squib. During their first trip, Iris had given her a vial of Hiding potion: a single drop under her tongue and the muggles would have seen her as a teenager. It was necessary since Iris frequented places where the presence of a child would have attracted too much attention.

She entered the barber-shop and a strong after-shave smell assaulted her nostrils.

"Whadd'ya want?" the owner barked, a fat man in a dirty undershirt showing an emblematic tattoo of a razor blade and a comb crossed on his burly bicep. He looked at Cassia straightly in her face, who sustained his glance as to not let him see how much she was intimidated by his appearance. His right scarred eye, maybe made of glass, was truly nerve-racking.

"I'm looking for a job." she states, trying to keep her voice steady.

As for answer, the man was shaken by a loud laughter, and rudely kicked her out, saying:

"Outta of my way, kid. I don't waste my time with noobs."

Cassia grunted, massaging the arm he had grabbed to shove her away, and resumed her search. With doors shut on her face, and hysterical laughs accompanying her unfruitful requests, Cassia began to lose the little confidence she had mustered at the beginning of the day. And having a group of stray cats tailing her everywhere did not help!

"Go away, please" she begged. Few cats tilted their head, however the majority ignored her.

"You have a delicious smell… we can't help it!" they meowed.

Then Cassia noticed she was incredibly late and rushed to the Boulevard. While going up the stairs hoping she wouldn't be seen, she dreadfully bumped into someone. It was Azalea.

"What are you doing already up so early? And why are you coming from the main entrance?" she inquired.

"No, I… well…" Cassia stuttered, trying to find a convincing excuse. She had thought of many just in case but now she couldn't recall even the simplest.

"I see, I see." said Azalea with a mischievous grin, "Next time I would suggest you to return early, if you didn't want to be discovered. There's a secret entrance on the second floor. If you promise not to say anything, I will show it to you."

Then she blinked to her and went down, leaving Cassia all alone again.

So, all of the stories surrounding her escaping attempts were true, Cassia thought, and felt a surge of admiration for her strong sister. She managed to slip furtively in her room without Iris or anyone else noticing and pretended to be asleep, until her Caretaker got up and called her.

Later on the same day, Azalea took her aside with the excuse of needing a hand for cleaning the cauldrons on the first floor to show her in reality the legendary secret passage. It was on the same first floor, third room after the stairs, within an enormous closet. It was common for noble houses to have at least one secret passage under manual control. In this case, you had to lower a small statue rested on the pedestal beside the wardrobe and the wood panel would have slid temporary to make comfortably pass two adult persons slightly bended inside the tunnel.

"You don't have to use it too often, because if Madame knew, she would close it." Azalea recommended.

The day after instead of using the main door, Cassia decided to use the passage. She moved the statue, watched anxiously the panel slid and entered the tunnel. It was dirty and full of silvery webs, and Cassia was glad when she came out there a couple of minutes after. She was surprised to find out that she was in a minor street of the muggle London, just near the cheap hotel that connected the two world. She used the passage the following day and also the day after. She sneaked out around six in the morning when her Caretaker had returned from her night job and came home before all the girls had raised around lunch. Iris became moodier on each passing day and Cassia resumed her strength and determination to continue in her search. She wanted and had to be economic-independent. Regarding the cats, however, she couldn't do anything: as much as she plead, they continued to follow her anywhere. Even though she loved having them around, her employers were sadly not of the same mind.

The fourth day she was in a minor street of the neighborhood, one of those so small to prevent the passage of cars, when for the first time she succeeded to earn a little money; the owner of a cheap supermarket paid her to distribute their promotion fliers. She was gleefully walking toward the secret passage to return to the Boulevard, caressing the small purse hanging from her shoulder where she had stored the just earned muggle money, when a pearl-gray cat jumped in front of her, preventing her to go ahead. Its tail waved softly like a nervous snake aiming for its prey.

Casia frowned. She couldn't be late again. She tried to surpass him but the animal mirrored her movements. At the end, the Squib knelt down and reached out to seize him, but the feline avoided her hands and snatched her purse, running in the opposite direction.

"Damn. Stop, you!"

Cassia hurried behind, cursing herself to have let the animal steal the money she had hard-earned. It seemed as if the animal wanted to play with her: he waited till she was enough near as to not letting her lose sight of him, but distant enough not to be captured. Cassia was so focused on his figure that she realized where she had arrived only when the cat had stopped and had put down her purse.

Cassia slowed down and headed sluggishly towards the object, while observing her surroundings.

She was in one of those residential avenues nearer the center of London, where fine Victorian-style houses were alternated with elegant stores and great libraries. The sidewalks were adorned with high, bottle-green colored lamps and small flowerbeds with fenced slim trees, deprived of their foliage. The only people she saw were all dressed in black, just a briefcase in their hand, and a serious expression which Casia thought was a little sad. In contrast with the vivacity of the place from which Casia was coming, that neighborhood seemed nearly fallen asleep. Even the windows of the houses, with their curtains completely pulled, seemed like eyelids shut.

So, Cassia found more than odd the small store in front of which the grey cat had deposited her purse, dirty but at least still whole. The large, bright glass windows let see the interior: orange silky drapes alternated to little tinkling door-bells were hanging from the ceiling. The walls were covered by shelves showing stones from various cuts and different colors, incense rods, amulets, handcrafted wood objects. Over the door, there was an handmade engraved sign stating "Felicity's shop", while at the centre of the same door there was carved a circle-inscribed rhombus, bordered by archaic runes.

While she was busied deciphering those signs, she felt like someone was digging a hole in her back. She turned suddenly and found herself staring at a green-eyed gorgeous woman with long auburn hair. Her robes were long and decorated in an elaborated way like the witches' ones and on her neck she wore a chain with a chiming sphere. In her arms, she carried the pearl-gray cat responsible of her short breath.

"May I help you?" she asked affably, studying her from head to toe.

"Your cat had stolen my bag." Casia answered, without hiding her annoyance for the delay that cat had caused.

"Regis did?" said the woman moderately surprised, raising her eyebrows. "Then you must be a rather special person. You see, I am looking for an helper here, but not all could apply for the job. Why don't you come in so we can discuss it in front of a cup of hot chocolate milk?"

Without leaving the time to refuse, the woman put a hand on the small of her back and escorted her inside with an elegant and plushy movement, making her sit on a yellow, glitter-covered pouf.

"I am Felicity, but you may call me Felix. You are….?"

"Cassia." she answered while the cat jumped on her lap in search of caresses. Casia obliged, abandoning soon the feelings of dislike toward him, stroking his throat and receiving in exchange sonorous purrs of appreciation.

"Cassia. Purity. Good." Felix said, giving her a smoking cup. "It seems that Regis likes you. My cat is very sharp. He knows when a person can work here… I believe that the Magic World is not foreigner to you."

Cassia was nearly choked with the surprise. Their talk was taking an unexpected turn.

"I don't think I'm cut for what you have to offer… you see, I am a Squib. I do not have magic inside my veins. Your cat made a mistake." Cassia said bitterly.

"Not to be able to cast a spell and not having magic are two very different things, my dear. Inside your veins there is more than you can imagine and I can help you discover it. If you work here, I can assure you won't regret it." Felix proposed. She sneered, like an animal discovering their teeth in sign of warning. For a moment Cassia had the impression that the pupils staring at her became longer and thinner. But it was only a second, then the impression vanished to leave the normal image of the woman who was waiting patiently for an answer.

Cassia hold her hand to think about it better, before hearing how much her employer was going to pay and accepting immediately. It was a wonderful day.

* * *

It was a terrible day. Draco held his eyes, swelled and red, concentrated on the tips of his shoes. From time to time he dared glancing at his mother beside him. She was pale-grey and her lips had assumed an unhealthy purple color. His father… in Azkaban…it was all Potter's fault! He would have made him pay for it, oh yes, he would have tortured him until he begged!

He had understood quickly that something had gone wrong when only few Apparated to Malfoy Manor and the Dark Lord had made his appearance with blood-stained eyes. He vented his anger agaist the first unfortunate DeathEater who had approached him. He had tortured him until his death, raging against Dumbledore, Potter and his father. His elegant father in that filthy prison for criminals…

And now, after few days, he summoned him and his mother.

The room was barely illuminated by the fire burning inside the fireplace, which failed also to warm up the icy air present in the room. The Dark Lord was giving them his back, holding his intercrossed hands behind, withdrew in an unnerving thoughtful silence. When he finally spoke, Narcissa flinched.

"Draco, Draco, Draco," the Dark Lord hissed, "The heir of the noble Malfoy lineage, the one and only successor of one of the old pureblooded families that had served me from the very beginning. Are you ready to serve me at the limit of your possibilities? Are you really prepared to sacrifice everything for our cause, for the sake of purity?"

Draco was paralyzed from fear and from the ineluctability of that was happening. He sneaked a quick supportive look at his mother, then knelt down as his father had explained time before and stretched his uncovered arm.

"Yes, My Lord." he said with shaking voice.

Lord Voldemort drew out his wand. He pressed its tip against the forearm of the boy, and Draco felt the skin burning underneath, so strongly to made him nearly lose his senses. Nevertheless, he couldn't back out. He was chained, submitted to that powerful, frightening touch.

When the ritual came to a end, the Black Mark was dancing on his left forearm pale skin.

"My father would be proud." The young Slytherin thought "Deatheater at only sixteen."

"I have a task for you, Draco." the Dark Lord said. "It's an ambitious plan, definitely. However it will rehabilitate your family name, if you miraculously succeeded. I want you to kill Albus Dumbledore."

Narcissa brought a hand in front of her mouth to suffocate her cries. Draco froze.

"Impossible" the rational part of his mind screamed.

"I admit it's not the simplest of the tasks" Lord Voldemort sneered, meeting his wide-opened eyes "But for your father's ineptitude I have lost an essential tool for winning this war. I trust you'll know better. And remember, boy: I will not tolerate ulterior failures. You are dismissed."

Draco and her mother slowly bowed and exited the room as requested. As soon as the door had closed behind, Narcissa put her hands on his son's shoulders, gripping them so hard as to leave the signs of her nails through his robes. He felt her trembling. She stared at his face, her teary eyes not really focused on him for an interminable moment. Then, she caressed tenderly his cheek as she used to do when he was still a child. Before her tears overflowed, she resumed to walk and Draco followed her, looking numbly at his marked arm. A pair of empty eyes from a black skull watched him back.

He was doomed.


End file.
